


At Night a Candle's Brighter Than the Sun

by khasael



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottoming from the Top, Community: hd_cockbook, M/M, Wax, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-25
Updated: 2011-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:59:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khasael/pseuds/khasael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco loves candles. Tonight, Harry discovers another reason why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Night a Candle's Brighter Than the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the HD_CockBook project at livejournal in 2011. Fic was for **Chapter 5: Craving the Craven or How To Get Your Kink On (Without Scaring Yourself)** , section 5.1: _Dirty Things You Can Do_.

It's been a long day, and Draco's too wound up to sleep.

Harry seems to know this. He doesn't murmur quietly that they should try to sleep, or even ask what's wrong, because he knows by now that Draco won't tell him. The cause of his energy is unimportant.

Harry, in fact, doesn't try anything so condescending as telling him to relax. He simply puts out a few of the lights in the room and, with a whisper, lights the candles on the bedside table and on the dresser instead, pulling Draco down onto the bed with him.

They don't need words; they're long past that point.

From the way Harry’s fingers trace a pattern on Draco’s chest and take their time moving up to comb through Draco’s hair, Draco knows that Harry's had a long day as well. Everything is slow and luxurious, and Draco can feel his tension and nervous energy melting away under Harry's touch like wax from one of his favourite candles. He kisses Harry, long and slow and soft, teasing with his touch and moaning when Harry sighs into his mouth. It’s like breathing the very essence of Harry in, letting him share in something vital, and it makes his head swim.

With his eyes closed, he can feel Harry's teeth on his neck, feel his calloused fingers move from shoulders to waist as he frees Draco from his robes. The flames around them flicker nearly in time with his heartbeat, visible even through his eyelids. Heat courses through his veins until he feels he's smouldering inside his own skin, as hot as the fire burning brightly nearby.

And it gives him an idea.

"Do you trust me?" He asks the question with his lips at Harry's jawbone, watching Harry shiver, feeling his lover's skin break out into goosebumps.

Harry looks up at him, lips swollen and face flushed. His eyes flicker with something behind his glasses, and Draco feels a rush of desire low in his belly, filling him with a sweet, thick heat. "Yeah."

"Good." He straddles Harry, leaning down low and placing a light bite on his collarbone. His left hand goes out to the bedside table, where the nearest candle sits, flickering slightly. He sits up and looks Harry directly in the eye, a grin quirking one side of his mouth. And then he tips the candle just slightly, watching as a thin trickle of wax spills over the side and hits Harry on the chest.

Harry hisses, drawing his lower lip between his teeth, and closes his eyes. But he doesn't ask Draco to stop. In fact, his next words are just what Draco wants to hear: "Keep going."

~0~

Draco’s eyes shine above him, grey now tinged with flecks of gold as they reflect the fire he loves so much, and Harry wants to remember this sight forever.

He’s come to appreciate the quiet beauty of this, of watching Draco contemplate a burning candle as he sits at the window, watching the snow fall, or as he listens to soft classical music as he lies in bed and fights to find sleep. Draco doesn’t know Harry watches him; if he did, he might become too self-conscious, and Harry doesn’t want that. He wants to be able to keep watching Draco manipulating the flame’s flickering by holding his hand to adjust airflow, or darting his fingers in and out of the flame so quickly he’s not burned. Because when Draco does these things, he seems alive and whole and full of something Harry can’t name.

The wax is hot, a shock to his skin, but it’s not so hot that it will blister. This candle is one of Draco’s favourites, a light, musky-scented white affair, and as Harry opens his eyes and watches the wax harden as it rolls down his side, stopping just before it hits the sheets, he thinks of the time Draco came all over him, so incoherent and in the moment that he couldn’t even come up with a warning.

Harry feels himself get hard at the memory.

"Keep going."

Draco’s grin widens, going nearly predatory, and Harry rocks his hips just a little, letting Draco feel his arousal underneath him. He tilts the candle again and wax pools at Harry’s sternum before running up his chest. It doesn’t hurt exactly, but it’s an entirely new sensation that he hasn’t quite got used to yet.

But the look on Draco’s face is worth it.

Cheeks flushed and eyes wide as if he’s trying to memorise every detail, Draco blows out the flame on the candle and sets it down. With one finger, he traces the two thin streams of hardened white wax and shivers. Groping without really looking, Draco’s hand finds another candle on the bedside table – the charmed one Harry brought home for him two months ago. The wax on this one is soft, the candle itself contained in a tin that turns clear when you tap it with your wand. It’s charmed to change colours in random patterns, throwing a bit of different-coloured light around the immediate area as it burns.

Harry licks his lips and locks eyes with Draco. Without another word, he nods. He’s ready.

Dark blue wax drips from the tin, runs down his torso and spills onto the sheets. Draco runs the fingertips of his left hand through the mess, smearing it over Harry in something like awe. He tilts the tin again, and this time the wax is red, settling into Harry’s navel and mimicking the heat inside his belly. Draco’s staring raptly, lips slightly parted and hair falling into his eyes. He’s the most beautiful thing Harry’s ever seen.

Draco plays a bit longer, until Harry’s chest is covered in ribbons of different-coloured wax, and by then he’s rocking in a steady rhythm, Harry’s hard cock pressing against Draco’s hole, and it’s all Harry can do not to grab Draco by the hips and plunge into him.

He’s sweating underneath the wax, an odd, slightly uncomfortable feeling, and then Draco’s pulling him up and into a bruising kiss, candle tin nearly empty, and before Harry can even come up for air, Draco has him in his hand, stroking in a way that has Harry’s eyes rolling back into his head.

The wax on his body cracks in a hundred places as they shift, and then they’re both sitting up, pressed together, as he’s inside Draco, who’s breathing hard, panting harshly in his ear. It’s fucking amazing being inside him, a feeling good enough to let Harry forget the awkward feeling of peeling wax and the way it tugs on his skin. And then Draco moans again, the sound going deep into Harry and making him shudder. He’s so fucking close.

"Wait," Draco gasps, head tilted back so Harry can have better access to his throat. "Do me."

The candle is thrust into Harry’s hand, the wick still smouldering, and it takes just a moment for Harry to understand. "You’re sure?"

"Fuck yes. Just do it now, before I come."

It’s hard to manage it all at once, Draco riding him enthusiastically, all of their slow, leisurely pace from earlier buried in this quick, hot feeling, one hand around Draco’s cock and Draco holding onto Harry’s back, pulling him in even closer, and now the tin of still-melted wax held in his other hand. He has to make this quick, because it’s really only a matter of seconds before he comes inside Draco, and he’s going to lose all control at that point, he can feel it.

Harry pours some of the wax at the spot between Draco’s shoulder blades, and Draco shudders around him, whimpering, and comes into Harry’s hand. It’s enough to drive Harry over the edge, his own orgasm flooding his nerves as he drops the tin onto the floor.

 _Fuck the mess,_ Harry thinks distractedly. _It's not worth worrying about._

They tumble towards the sheets together, tangled in fabric and hardened wax of a dozen colours, and Harry idly picks a few bits of the wax from his skin. He’s hot and sweaty and sticky, and all he wants to to clean up and nap, Draco in his arms.

Draco rolls over and bats Harry’s hand away. Harry just looks at him, eyebrows raised. "What?"

With a spreading smile, Draco leans in and leaves a small bite on Harry’s shoulder. "I was the one to make the mess. Now let me clean it up." He pulls another bit of wax away, this one from Harry’s side.

Harry laughs softly, feeling the wax shift as he does, and agrees.

They’re never getting these sheets clean. He doesn’t think either of them cares.


End file.
